


Clothes Make the Wayne

by FleetSparrow



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Family time, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: There's always that one outfit that runs in the family.





	Clothes Make the Wayne

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic from 2011 I'm moving over before the great Tumblr death.

“You want me to wear what?”

Damian stared in disgust at the garments in his father’s hands. He had never seen any outfit so impractical, so unnecessarily complicated, so…

…not Damian.

Bruce held a pair of nice blue jeans, a long-sleeved buttoned shirt, and a red sweater-vest, probably all perfectly tailored to fit his youngest son.

No “probably” about it; it was definitely tailored to fit Damian.

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” Bruce said, seemingly oblivious to his son’s shock. “It’s somewhat of a tradition of the manor. I had this sort of an outfit when I was a boy. Dick, of course, added some color to it, but it’s always belonged to the youngest member of the family. Try it on.”

Damian stood still, staring with blank horror at the clothes held out for him. One part of his mind was quickly running over all the possible ways for him to escape, another was laughing hysterically at the thought of him carrying on a “tradition” other than his father’s mantle, while still another was trying desperately to comprehend what was actually happening to him.

Bruce took a step closer. “Put it on, Damian.” His tone had changed, while not quite to full Bat-voice, but into a much more demanding one.

Slowly, as though moving on their own, Damian’s arms reached out for the outfit. As soon as it seemed securely in his son’s grasp, Bruce walked to the door.

“Come down to the study when you’re dressed. We want to see how it looks.”

Damian’s eyes grew even wider at the thought of presenting himself in this…monstrosity to the so-called family. Shaking himself free of his shock, he took a deep breath, reminded himself that he could face any challenge (he’s not an al Ghul-Wayne for nothing), and changed clothes.

Five minutes later, nerves steeled, he strode into his father’s study, not bothering to knock.

“Well, Father? Is this what you de–”

He stared.

Lounging around the study were his “siblings” and fellow Robins, all wearing matching clothes: Dick was by a bookcase next to Bruce, Jason was sprawled suggestively across the desk, Stephanie and Cassandra were cuddled into a large armchair, and Tim was standing by the fireplace, looking as if he was trying to not be obvious about mentally recording everything that happened.

“Little D!” Dick stepped forward to hug him, all smiles. “Isn’t this great?”

Never before had Damian’s mind yelled so violently at him to escape, yet he had no choice. He was in a room of Bats and Birds. No matter how good he was, no matter how fast he was, no matter how clever he was, he would never escape all of them. So he fell back to the survival instinct and tried a smile.

“It’s…wonderful.”

He was going to die.


End file.
